In The Silence
by emo-geek-87
Summary: MB story. A sequel to All These Things
1. They Know Now What?

In The Silence 

Sequel to my first fan fic "All These Things". Reactions are unfavorable to say the least.

You kinda need to read the first one to really get the second one. It's PG-13 for now but it will slowly work it's way up. All the mistakes are mine. I own nothing. Read then Review. If I get feedback I finish the story. Hope you like my little story. XOXOXO

Chapter 1: So they know. Now what?

Slowly Michael felt himself being pulled away from the comforting dark of sleep by voices that he couldn't place yet both were vaguely familiar. He could recognize the tone, angry but hushed in an attempt he assumed to prevent waking him. He drifted between awake and asleep for what seemed like hours but what was more likely minutes. Through it all the hushed voices never stopped until finally it was blissfully quiet and he allowed himself to reflect on the events of the previous night with a fondness twinged slightly by regret.

**Flashback**

The ride back to the loft was made in comfortable silence. They held hands the entire time, not even unlocking their fingers when Brian needed to shift gears. The silence was time tested hence the comfort of it. Most people can't spend seconds, minutes, hours even in complete silence and hear every word. Sixteen years of friendship will afford you that luxury. The decidedly unexpected aspect was the undercurrent of lust and anticipation. Both had experienced similar feelings before but never this strong or in regards to the other. For the first time in their entire relationship it wasn't , Will they? Won't they, it was all a matter of getting to the loft before they both spontaneously combusted. So much so that neither noticed when they had made it to said loft because they were so enraptured by the feeling. The knowledge that they were finally going to happen. Before getting out of the jeep they both locked eyes and asked if they were sure. Everything up to then had been talk, this made it real. And finally they were ready to be real. In the elevator Michael stood with his back against the far wall with Brian hovering over him. Close enough to sense each other but not quite touching. With hands planted on either side of Michael's head Brian really looked at his friend, his lover, his future husband and for what felt like the first time saw him. No longer was he that scrawny fourteen year old he had fallen for or the insecure creature he had once been. He looked and saw a man. His man. Breathing hitched, eyes blazing with lust he finally understood the meaning of the word soul mate. Which surprisingly enough isn't quite the four letter word he believed it to be. Both were broken out of the reverence by the creaking of the elevator coming to a stop and bolted into the frantic action for trying to get inside while fighting the urge to touch each other. Wanting to delay the inevitable. They were surprisingly not surprised when the flaming red of a wig caught both their eyes. The wig which was of course attached to the charming Debbie Novotny, who for the moment can be called the queen of bad timing. A collective deep breath was observed then the fun had truly started. Bodies both humming with lust they waited for an attack and Debbie was never no to disappoint. Her voice boomed in an condescending tone from Brian's sofa.

"Sooooo Michael how was work?"

"Great, Ma what are you doing here?"

"Just came to see my baby. Apparently I'm going to have a son-in-law, which let me tell you is news to me."

"Ma I really didn't want you to find out this way but Brian's asked me to marry him."

"I know. I had to find out from that Marley person you work with. You couldn't have come to me first?"

"No I couldn't seeing as though he only asked me twenty minutes ago."

Brian was stoic and quiet standing behind his love waiting to jump in if need be.

"So I assume you came back here to what? Fuck?"

She let the responding blush that covered his cheek be her answer.

"You do realize that once he's had you that will be it. He'll move to the next."

"Hey Deb, you know that is not true." Brian interjected in a hushed angry tone.

"Don't I. You've strung him along for years. You expect me to believe that this isn't another one of your attempts to control him. I need to protect him from that."

Before Brian had the chance to defend himself Michael did it for him.

"The him you need to protect is standing right here telling you that no he doesn't need protecting. At least not from the one man, the only man he's ever really loved. Now I think it's time you leave before things are said that will be regretted later."

His tone was firm laced with pleading. Deb walked over to her only son, placed his face in her hands and pulled the last punch. Hit the one nerve she knew was already exposed and in a tone so soft it made him question everything, including his existence She planted the seed of doubt.

"He doesn't love you like you love him. He loves Justin. You're just the best friend, baby. I'm sorry."

And with that she was out the door, leaving only the faint scent of her knock-off Chanel and a son whose body was still humming. Only with an emotion far from lust. Pain and confusion permeated is being. Without a word Brian understood to stay silent as Michael made his way to the bed and lay down as close to the edge as possible. Hours later when the soft snoring could be heard from the couch where he was scratching the label off his beer Brian knew he had heard every word. Every doubt and every horrible thing he'd ever done. His Mikey needed time, so time he would get. It's not like Michael hadn't waited for him. He let his head fall against the back of the couch and drifted to sleep. For once not caring that beer might be spilt on his expensive sofa, he had bigger things on his mind.

Michael's eyes shot open when a crash rang out from the other room followed by the sliding loft door being slammed shut so hard it bounced back and came off the track. It was then that the comforting dark was replaced by the harsh blinding light of awake and scared. He bolted from Brian's bed and saw the owner of that bed hunched over picking up the shattered shards of a broken bottle. His nose was assaulted by the smell of warm stale beer. Brian. The man he love and the man that could sense him as soon as he entered the room. When he spoke his voice was cold and hollow.

"Justin knows."

"Is everything okay? What happened?"

He let the silence speak for itself and place what he hoped was a comforting hand on Brian's sweaty, heaving back. Only to have the person he wanted to comfort pull away and storm towards the bathroom. He sat staring shocked at his hand until he heard the water of the shower boom forth from the bathroom. It was then that he carefully cleaned the glass and fixed the door before slipping out. In the silence he had heard every word. Brian needed time. That was something Michael would always give him. They both had plenty of time.


	2. 48 Hours Down The Drain

48 hours. His entire life had changed in less than 48 hours. Brian said he loved him but with everything that has happened, the hope that blossomed deep in his chest was hindered by a debilitating doubt. When he first walked into that loft he was finally sure they were ready, sixteen years of tears, pain, love, lust, confusion all but disappeared and Michael was left with only possibility. Everything leading to that moment was the past. Now it was the future they were heading for. But the second that loft door opened and that flash of red caught his eye he knew. They weren't ready.

Grand spectacles were Brain's specialty. Mikey's own white knight would swoop in just in the nick of time if things got too tough for this boy wonder then disappear quickly behind the aloof image of perfection carefully crafted for protection. There was no doubt that in the moment every word that was said was meant. But after the dust settled, how could he ever be this lucky? Would any of this be happening if it wasn't for the entire pasta night debacle? How could the great Brian Kinney, king of Babylon, want to settle down with the semi-cute boy next door? How could he ever fool himself into thinking that he was good enough?

Question upon question swirled in Michael's head making him long for the weight of the silver ring that he had foolishly left behind. Less than twenty minutes after putting it on and the meaning was stripped away. His own mother had looked him in the eye and taken everything the ring symbolized. But for those first twenty minutes it meant he finally belonged somewhere, with someone. The comforting weight served as a reminder of that feeling while he slept.

But now it left him walking aimlessly down the desolate streets of Liberty Avenue, painfully aware that the vibrant colours painting the sky in preparation for the sun would on any other day be beautiful. Now they served only as reminders of things lost. He longed for the night sky and stars you could wish on. He longed for home, for Brian. As tears began to force themselves toward the surface Michael hung his head in shame. It was then looking down at his left hand longingly that it hit him. Square in the chest knocking him to the ground. It hit him

_The loft held a particularly eerie quiet when Brian had finally worked up the courage to leave the bathroom. A quick survey of his home showed that everything was back the way it was before his rude awakening, save one thing. The beautiful brown-eyed angel he had the privilege to wake up beside was replaced by the simple elegant silver band placed on top of a note._

_**I understand. Whatever you decide, I understand.**_

_**I'll Love You For Always.**_

_**Michael**_

_With that note pressed firmly to his chest. With that elegant silver band adding a welcome weight anchoring him to the only man he would ever love, Brian fell into a deep sleep. Finally allowing Justin's harsh words to be pushed to the back of his mind, if only for a moment, he had peace._

Sirens wailed mixed with the sound of concerned voices that were muted by the pain coursing through his entire body. Every breath needed to be wretched from his tired frame as he fought to hold on. He tried to find the voice of his white knight through the din and hum of conversation. Finally giving up when the paramedic said that everything was going to be okay.

"Brian..."

He whispered before succumbing to the dark. Finally for a moment, he had peace.

_Brian was jolted awake by the shrill ring of the phone as the loud sound reverberated through the empty loft. Clutching Michael's note in his left hand he grabbed the phone with his right. Debbie's choked sobs were enough to send a shiver of cold dread down his spine. When he finally found his voice, he fought to keep the panic from rising. _

"_Deb what is it? What's wrong?"_

_The last thing he heard before he dropped the phone swam in his head as he grasped at any semblance of sanity._

"_Brain, oh god, it's Michael. There was an accident..."_


	3. The Ever Present Father

Chapter Three

In this dream he is crumpled in the corner. Invisible hands rain down powerful blows as he does his best to remember the importants of oxygen. He knows he has to keep breathing. But each breath comes in tandum with pain that stabs his side. Just breathe he tells himself. Just take one more breath. Stay alive one second longer. Oh how easy it would be to just give up . Surrender to the black. Fall asleep and never wake up. But he remembers. He can't leave. He's needed at home. Somebody has to look out for Brian. If Brian doesn't have anybody he'll fall apart. A unfamilar horrible vision flashes before his eyes. The love of his life hanging from the rafters, fighting to breathe just like he his now.

Just as he remembers what he's fighting for the pain stops. His tormentor steps out of the black. His face half hidden in shadow but still he'd know that face anywhere. The evil smirk was evil and menacing and has haunted him since he was 15 years old.

Jack Kinney stands over a beaten Michael Novotny. Knowing in a self-satisfied way that he taught the little fairy a lesson. That Novotny would think twice about looking at his boy like that again. An evil chuckle escapes him as he goes. Leaving the only boy that would ever truly love his son bleeding and sobbing on the floor. The word "queer" rings in his ears. The silence is broken. 

The hosptial waiting roomis sterile and smells of stinging astringent. Brian guesses that's what death smells like. There is noise all around him. Jumbled words penetrate the cloud he had built around himself and his muddled brain trys to comprehend.

Internal Injuries. Swelling. Pressure. Bleeding.

But one snaps him back and the room finally comes into focus. Looking around the room he wishes now the room was still fuzzy. The word, although spoken softly, echos through the hallway. Sobbing is what truly breaks the silence. Deb and Emmett are clinging to each other. Ted is looking at his feet fighting back his tears. Brian however cannot be as strong. Before he realizes it he feels the single wet drop land on the inside of his left wrist. Then he watches as others join it. The one word that is playing on everyone's mind. The one that Brian is scared of, even though he never knew you could be scared of a word. The word that describes what Michael is right now.

Comatose.

The ER doctor says that after Michael has been moved upstairs he can have visitors. Of course upstairs means that he won't be walking out the door anytime soon. So it makes the good news a little less good. They all wait for what seems like days. Everyone's there. Deb, Vic, Em, and Ted are huddled together. Vic is playing the ever present father. The girls are there too. Mel offers a weak smile because she cannot even begin to imagine what it's like to be him. Lindsey is fussing over Gus. Her hands are moving fast but she isn't quick enough to hind the fact that she's shaking. His gaze rest one the one person he would be glad never to see. Justin Taylor had the gall to show his face. For the first time since Deb's call Brian feels something other than shock. Pure vengeful rage shoots through him and before he can be stopped he lauches at his new worst enemy.

The hard flat slap of two grown men hitting the floor causes everyone to turn their head away form their conversations. They watch slack jawed as a furious Brian stares hard at a wide eyed Justin. Keeping him in pinned by the throat. The air crackled and everyone jumped when they heard the first words come out of Brian's mouth in four hours. His voice trembled and only allowed him to whisper.

"How dare you?" You think I have forgotten. You think I don't know that you're part of the rerason we even have to be here. That Michael would be home safe in bed had I kept walking that night on Liberty Ave. If I had said no. If I had listened to the signs."

Justin did his best impression of a goldfish and the silence was more than he could take. His fingers closed into a fist and waited for the sweet crush of knuckles hitting a cheek. But it never came. All that came. All that came was warm thin arms that encircled him from behind. The way he wept when he felt the even warmer chest cushion his fall into it. The way he wept when even warmer breath glided across his neck. Telling him everything will be okay. He was weeping in relief because for that second everything was alright. Made that way the ever present father.

The sound of shuffling feet follow a terrified man as he walks the most terrifying walk of his life. When he feels the cold steel of the handle in his palm he hesitates before stepping inside. ICU. This makes it all real. Brian thinks that if this really is the end he might make the whole thing stop here. So he can remember the Mikey he sees now. Not the broken one that lies a few feet ahead of him. He's scared that under all those tubes and contusions he won't be able to recognize his Mikey.

He mentally slaps himself for even considering abandoning the one that never abandoned him. He decided that if this was it then it ended with a kiss. He remembers Michael's warmth. From those 15 years but mostly from the night before. He needed that warmth. He needed to lay beside his life even if he was barely hanging on to his own. His best friend, he needed his soulmate. With a deep breath henodded his head once and opened the door. 


	4. What I See When You Sleep

Chapter 4

The stark white of Michael's face only made the bluing bruises seem more severe. The sea foam green of the walls was almost an exact match of what came out of Brian as he finished surveying the damages. Of all the wounds he saw the one he would always remember. It was the one that propelled him toward the bathroom.

His beautiful fragile Michael had been sown back together. The point where his collarbone gently became the adam's apple was torn. A jagged gash so harsh that within moments of seeing it, it had managed to reduce a strong street-wise 29 year old man into a quivering mass of heaving, gasping nothingness. He realized, as the contents of his stomach left him fast enough to ricochet back towards him and onto his shirt, just how close he came to losing the only thing he ever really had.

After his shaking had subsided he braved a glance in the mirror. His hair was matted to his head by his fearful sweating. The stink of himself was enough to make him want to return to the comforting place with his head above the bowl. Definately not fit to be seen anywhere near Liberty Ave. Not that it mattered anymore. If Michael woke up... NO! His mind rebelled. When Michael wakes up he's going to be Brian's everything. From this moment on Brian was a one man man and if Michael would have none of him then he would be a no man man.

He straightened his shirt took a deep breath and took another look at Michael. This time he didn't see the bruises and the gash and the IV's. He saw his beautiful fragile Mikey. His body shook from the force of it. The pure unadulterated knowledge of love flooded his senses and he forgot everything outside the door. He curled himself tightly into Michael's heat. He was home.

He is standing in a white room of doors. He picks the one he almost always picks. In every way this dream is the most made of memory, of fact. He remembers this day, ten years past, better than he remembers last week. He blinks as the whiteness over takes him and suddenly he is surrounded by his life at twenty.

The apartment he calls him can more accurately be described as a room with an attached bath. His second hand thrift store bed is drowning in all the things he'd experienced alone. The celebratory trick he'd brought home after his first official day of college. The one he did on his last too. This one decidedly less celebratory. It was covered in the tears, the anguish and the hurt of Brian getting everything he'd ever wanted. Of being, for the last time, cast aside. The pride that swelled in him for everything Brian had set out to accomplish and did was indescribable. However did nothing to numb the pain of his loneliness or his isolation. He sat on that bed and he remembered. He cried. He loved. It was in this profound moment of crying and loving that his peace was shattered by a soft knock on the door follower by an even louder knock of someone hitting the floor.

There he lay crouched in a ball, ripped shirt, dirty jeans and cuts on his face. Michael saw to his face first. He used his whispered rambling to cover the gasp of rubbing alcohol on open cuts. There was nothing he could do to cover the first gasp that escaped him as he peeled back the soiled clothing to reveal a battered Brian. There was also nothing he could do to stop the tear that escaped when he saw those strong beautiful thighs covered in blood.

The look of pure fear that Brian must have seen in his eyes asked the silent question. Answered only by a slight shake of his head. Not Michael's worst fear but not far off. Brian had always been excited by the prospect of being on the giving end of a willing rough fuck. It had seemed though that the tables had turned and his rough trick had been too rough. 

After he was tucked safely into bed Michael watched him. When he did he didn't see the year of silent agony that they both suffered as three, six, and twelve months eeked by. Always with a tenative negative. He didn't see the terrified shaking Brian vowing he would never let anyone top him ever again. He didn't see the months of icy silence that always followed Michael being privy to another one of Brian's dark secrets. All he saw was his beautiful fragile Brian. And that his beautiful fragile Brian had come home.

AN: This story go a whole lot darker than I had intended. 


	5. Fading Memories Of Alex

He blended into the background of everything as he returned kicking and screaming back to the white room. He didn't want to leave this dream. This memory. But as ever, time to choose another door.

He understood what all this white room business meant. This was the way of Fate making him decided whether or not to wake up. In his white room of memories he asked himself if these were enough. If he could even handle anymore of the ones like the one he was being forced into now. Drawn to the one memory he wished he never had. Driven to twenty-five.

Twenty-five. When for once the horrible feeling of steel in flesh didn't feel so terrible. Looking down at his arms he saw the silver scar barely visible unless you were looking. The words of a mother, putting the pressure on the blade.

Contrary to popular belief, Justin was not the first to penetrate the rough exterior of Brian Kinney. The first was Alex. Alex was the one that had really taken Brian away. Alex, truth be told, is the reason Michael was so terrified of Justin. He had seen what Brian letting someone in could do.

It could turn his strong, proud best friend into a lovesick twelve year old who thought it was okay for the one he loves to use his backhand every once in a while to keep him in line. The thought shook him to the core and he fought tooth and nail to save Brian form himself. No more fighting though. Brian had made his choice. Alex was his future. Michael was memories. This was however not what pushed Michael over the edge. What did were the words of comfort that his mother had chosen.

"Hush now, Michael. Brian's in love. Why do you want to take that away from him?"

Although the answer was on the tip of his tongue he couldn't bring himself to betray Brians secret. So instead he told the second best. In a whispered voice he finally told the truth,

" Because it's not me."

The blade slid in so smoothly that it felt as if it was always meant to be there. The relief was quickly replaced when he saw the vivid red of blood. The terror of Michael, who was only the sum of his memories, washing those memories in crimson. Sullying everything he was by making them revenge.

That was when he finally called 911. He told the dispatcher that he had managed to cut himself in an awkward way while trying to pry the lid off of a paint can. That was impossible because there was no sign of said can when the paramedics arrived. But they bought his story because it was easier than helping. People believe what they want to believe.

It was in the way to the hospital when Michael had surrendered to the black that he found the white room and the booming voice. Both asking him to choose. They had shown him the memory of Brians rough trick and asked him to decide. With that choice he had managed to save Brian.

No one knew about the real Alex. Just like no one learned of his trip to emergency. Michael chose to come back for one reason and one reason alone - Brian loved him. It may not ever be in the way he would always dream about but for him it was enough. And that put him at the top of a very short list.

The sea foam green was an aid in allowing himself the liberty of giving in to the queasiness of the drugs he had been pumped with.

Brian jerked awake. His head flying off the back of the chair. Michaels hand clutched tightly in his. He felt the jolt of being backhanded across the face and wondered for the thousandth time how big the swelling would get. He awoke to hard, angry, ice blue eyes and noticed the normally perfect blonde hair was askew. He blinked hard and opened his eyes to reality. A bright red wig and calming green rimmed with red gently shaking him awake.

He clutched onto Deb harder than ever before and sobbed his regret onto her shoulder. Absently he wondered what had made him think of "him". He hadn't thought about Alex in four years. Not since Mikey had saved him. 


	6. Hopes and Fears Of The Conscious and The

AN: Sorry it took me so long. Apparently I can only work when it's demanded of me. **_wink wink nudge nudge_**. Please leave the feedback. I also will apologize if the time line and continuity is off. This one was the hardest to write. If you really want me to post the rest you'll have give into the nudge and the wink.

Hopes and Fears Of The Conscious and The Not So.

Chapter 6

Michael' POV

_Somewhere in the back of his mind Michael knew something important was coming. A big day. Brian was entering the world of the old age. He was turning thirty. Michael couldn't know exactly when this momentous occasion was taking place. It must have been at least two weeks since he had been deemed **"asleep"**. In the white room he walked towards his own induction to bladder control problems. His thirtieth birthday._

Michael beamed as he watched his mother and Em dancing as only a queen and Liberty Aves' favorite self-proclaimed fag hag could. He couldn't for the life of him figure out which outfit was the loudest but it was certain both were screaming out at deafening decibels. As his eyes scanned the room and was filled with love. Love for the family that he saw wearing laughable outfit, dancing to their hearts content and celebrating him. The fact he had finally earned this for himself made everything else wrong with his life fade for tonight.

Tonight he wasn't the coward that was still in the closet at the place he toiled away day and night. Tonight he wasn't the stupid uneducated poor boy who couldn't handle the rigorous pressure of community college. And just for tonight he could put aside the fact that he was on the arm of the wrong man. He could set all of this aside for one reason. Brian had done this. This was Brian's way of saying _"I love you"_. For tonight that was enough.

With the presents fast approaching Michael began to tense up. Giving and receiving presents was an art he had yet to master. When it was his birthday he couldn't help but feel slightly guilty that everyone in the room was empty handed. While the thought of giving presents made him nauseous. He'd spend weeks thinking of the perfect gift and become convinced it was until he was faced with the task of actually handing it over. Panic started to creep up on him from the moment he entered any kind of present giving party. It would fill him the way water seeps into the cracks of a submerged car. With each preceding present rolling the window down a little. Slowly then not so slowly. Paper ripping, a fake smile and an even faker thank you and it was all over. Until the next time. A vicious cycle.

Michael tried to be discrete but he was sure that David saw him slip the watch into his pocket instead of his wrist. As Captain Astro flung him across the dance floor he saw David's face twist into a sneer. Never happy for the happiness of others. As the room spun past him Michael finally started to realize the tragedy of his life. Always borrowing the happiness from the ones around him. Thinking he was happy because he did everything he could to keep the ones around him that way. Life had never made more sense or , he realized after he was finally released by the man in tights, more vomit-inducing.

He stood near the step that lead to the bedroom surveying his party. Sipping the only non-alcoholic drink in the entire loft. After all he would need to be sober if he wanted to get home in one piece. It was becoming increasingly obvious that David would not be any help on that front. Watching him sitting in the corner getting more pissed by the second. Michael turned his stare away when he saw David drag himself up ans staggering towards him. With a drunk smile David plopped himself down beside Michael and laid a sloppy kiss on his cheek. He slurringly whisper hotly into Michael's ear.

"Baby Baby Baby I think the best is yet to come."

Michael perked up a bit thinking that David was out of his tree enough to let slip a birthday secret. Michael turned his face up inquisitively.

"Oh yah baby it coming. Then everything will be better. No more him. Just you and me. Forever and ever."

"David, what are you saying?"

"This is all foreplay. Don't you see? Brian's gonna get a little too drunk, take you in the back, give you what you throw at him daily and throw you away like yesterday's garbage. Then all will be good and over with. Mine forever, yep."

Michael sat in shock. Hurt flood his senses and he rose to his feet. Reaching his hand into his pocket he pulled out his present. A quiet angry voice rose just above audible level.

"David I think you should leave now. I don't want you here. Never really wanted you here."

Looking surprisingly sober, David jumped to his feet.

"No. I'm not going to be thrown out of your life on account of a statement that happens to be 100 true just because it's about him."

Michael closed his eyes for a moment forming a plan to make David leave without making a scene. Thankfully like always his Superman came to his rescue.

"I think it's time for you to go Doc. The birthday boy is obviously done with you. Finally."

David took one look at Michael's outstretched hand and grabbed the watch out of his palm. He did an abrupt turn on his heel and head for the door. Slamming it hard enough to lift it of its track. Unfortunately not the last time it would it would receive such treatment.

Brian turned them both to face the party. Brian looking for tonight's lucky winner. Michael looking at his empty hand. He had returned his gift and taken back his heart. He glanced up, saw dancing hazel eyes and in that moment gave it back to its rightful owner.

_Michael returned to the white room and realized he had to make a decision soon. After all he had a date. One with a hospital roof and his Superman._

Brian's POV

Brian looked down at the one he would love always and this time/ like all the others, his love mixed with every time he had failed him. This beautiful man had put up with so much it was a no wonder they ended up like this. The guilt weighed him down. He knew everything Michael refused to tell him.

He knew about what Jack had done in the basement of his childhood home. Brian sulking in his bed room. Thinking Michael was on his way to yet another cannelloni night. Knowing that if Michael had just screamed Brian would have been down those steps in two seconds and taking the beating instead. He knew why he'd left David. Heard the hurtful words and felt them tear burning doubt into Michael's gut. He knew that in the end it was Mikey that helped him survive Alex. Knew that Michael had taken that punch to show Brian just how dangerous Alex was. Knew that Michael was clinging to the hope that Brian's #1 rule was still firmly in place. People can do what they like to him but Michael was a completely different story. One well landed punch was all it took to make Brian pack up and leave. He also knew he was the most frequent violator of his own rule.

Above all else he knew was the scar that marred a perfect wrist. The one he kissed and studied while his love slept. The one he was responsible for it. Michael had been asleep for three long weeks. More than enough time for everyone to give up. Last of which was him. His hope faded when he saw that scar glint silver in the florescent light. So with the last of what had kept him there, sleeping sitting up and living on old coffee, he gave up. He would give into the nagging thought that had haunted him since Mikey had gone away. Growing everyday. Filling him, Consuming him.

He kissed Mikey one last long goodbye and walked into the bright sunlight. Soaked up one last beautiful ray of sun and started toward his jeep. He had to hurry. After all he had a date. One with his white scarf and the rafters of his loft.


	7. Choices made

Chapter 7

Michael's POV

He's in the white room again but something feels wrong. Out of place. He feels himself being drawn inexplicably to a door that stands in dark contrast to the rest of the room. Every fibre of his being is telling him to turn the other way. Screaming for him to go back to a safe memory. Knowing that the black door leads to nowhere. Feels that there is no memory there. Despite the objection of both fibers and instincts he follows the pull.

The pull leads him to be facing the hard steel grey of the familiar loft door. He stood staring and memorizing the grooves, dents and all the other evidence of abuse. Angry tricks looking for a second go of it and getting turned away. Kicking, punching and screaming. Leaving their mark in the only way they could. For some unknown reason anxiety welled in him. The deep breaths he took as he pressed his forehead into one of the dents. With all certainty that this particular one was Justin's. Not knowing what to expect Michael took one last deep cleansing breath, grabbed the handle and jerked the door open. Expecting the worst and closing his eyes praying for the best.

When he finally does open his eyes he sees the loft bathed in warm blue light. He revels in how much this feels like home. It's the place he will always belong. Everything he senses when he walks in tells him he is alone. Which is why when the breathy moans broke the silence he starts slightly. Cursing himself as those moans start a fire in his veins. Brian's home and I'm home, more than ready to take him in a decidedly manly fashion. He sneaks rather stealthily to the slats that act as the only privacy this loft affords. Hoping to play peek-a-boo Michael slowly turns the first obstacle.

His blood runs cold and he sees his worst fear. Despite Brian's hand working furiously the moans stay quiet and breathy. Michael suspects this has something to do with the elegant silk scarf currently taking away his best friend inch by inch, second by second. The movement he is currently fixated on is doing a rather good impression of the blood rushing in his ears. Moving furiously and demanding the release of nothing. He takes one good long look at Brian and finally understands. This was what he saw in his first dream. He looks and sees that Brian is almost gone. He silently says his goodbye and walks toward the door. Leaving Brian blissfully unaware of his audience until the resounding crash of the loft door coming off its track for the last time.

His tired limbs fought against the atrophy as he pushed himself closer and closer towards the surface. A flash of Brian frantically grabbing at his throat and regretting the decision to be hanging. That was enough to make his decision. He felt the weight of this choice. He knew that once it was made there was no take-back. With a scream of panic and rage, he opened his mouth, let the warmth flow into him, smiling slightly as he felt his lungs fill with womb-like water. Drowning in what had given him life. He had finally made his choice.

With one last push he pierced the soft skin of what is known to most as coma.

AN: This is a shorter one. There will be more soon.


End file.
